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Quote by Abhijit Naskar

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L'humain Impossible: Cent Sonnets pour Ma Famille Mondiale

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Abhijit Naskar

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“Quand on gagne six yuans par mois, c'est vraiment six yuans, car on ne peut avoir un yuan de plus dans sa poche sans qu'aussitôt les gens vous regardent de travers et se mettent à jaser sur votre compte. En revanche, quand on peut en gagner dans les cinq cents, il est certain qu'on ne peut s'en tenir à ce chiffre et que plus vous avez d'argent, plus les gens vous admirent. Ca peut sembler tout à fait injuste, mais, en fait, que vous le croyez ou non, c'est comme ça que ça se passe !”

SociétéClasses Sociales
Book:Gens de Pékin
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“Broken boat! The small boat was anchored, where the lake ended, It stood there over the water and nothing at all pretended, The silently lapping water showed no hurry, Just like the still boat that today had no reason to worry, The boat, the water, everything appeared to be at ease, They had no reason to rush, and nobody to please, Just themselves and their anchored state, That steadfastly cast them into this feeling of never being tired to wait, Wait for the sunrise, wait for the moon rise, wait for the morning, Wait for the boatman, wait for a new wave, wait for the birds to sing, It seemed the boat and the lake could wait forever and for everything, And just like the boat I too waited for someone, that feeling beautiful, that special something, The lake spreads far and wide, And the boat stands anchored between this divide, To wait or to drift at the wind’s will, The prospect is attractive but the boat has a promise to fulfill, Towards the boatman, towards the anchor, towards the lake too, And towards something or maybe someone, nobody knows who, Maybe it is her secret affair, With the shore, with the security it offers her, While she is romancing the shore and it erotically kisses her hull, And an onlooker like me feels she wants to break free from this life so dull, But maybe she does not regard the weight of the anchor to be a boundation, For it holds her close to the erotic shore and it's wet and muddy sensation, As time passes by, the boat begins to rot, The kiss of the shore that enticed her and felt so hot, Was actually fooling her to feel what was not real, By the time the boat realised the kiss of the shore was unreal, The hull of the boat had perforated and crumbled, And as it lay there in this state of uselessness and now humbled, The shore no longer kissed it, Because now a new boat stood anchored there, and the shore was erotically kissing it, The boat has decomposed, and its wood drifts freely in the lake now, And it wanders endlessly to seek that real feeling of love, But in pieces, one here, one there, one somewhere unknown, In pieces trying to find love that it never had actually felt or known, So, whenever I see a broken piece of a boat, I think of you my love, and then with these pieces I and my feelings float, Where? Only every broken piece of the boat can tell, But unlike the boat, I feel our love is real and it is for nobody except us to judge and tell!”

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Book:They Loved in 2075!
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“Il nous appartient de veiller tous ensemble à ce que notre société reste une société dont nous soyons fiers : pas cette société des sans-papiers, des expulsions, des soupçons à l'égard des immigrés, pas cette société où l'on remet en cause les retraites, les acquis de la Sécurité sociale, pas cette société où les médias sont entre les mains des nantis, toutes choses que nous aurions refusé de cautionner si nous avions été les véritables héritiers du Conseil National de la Résistance.”

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Book:Indignez-vous !
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